


White Roses

by ArkhamHausII



Category: - - Fandom
Genre: Brief Violence, F/M, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3046919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArkhamHausII/pseuds/ArkhamHausII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Threads of a sinister scheme entwine Fiara, who must work her way out of the clutches of a strange admirer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Reader(s)
> 
> As I am new to this website, please excuse any aesthetic errors! They will reduce over time. Your kudos and comments will let me improve, so feel free to spit fire!
> 
> Cheerio
> 
> House of Arkham

# Chapter 1: Desirable

She was running through the woods as fast as her feet allowed. Crying and panting and running, through the dark trees that seemed to end in neither height nor number. It was only some time ago that she was requested by her father to bring water from the well at the edge of the forest. Then came the men. There were four of them: tall and menacing. They kept calling her names and one even looked at her small, slim frame hungrily. He was just a few feet away when she threw her pail of water at him and ran.

Now they seemed to have disappeared. Clutching at a stitch in her side, she hoped fervently that they had. There was not a sound to be heard save for the crackling of the undergrowth beneath her feet. Then, she felt a strong arm around her shoulders and something shiny was held too close to her throat.

Something small whizzed past her ear and the knife at her throat vanished. The man behind her swore in pain and rage. With her eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, she saw something move swiftly with a swishing sound. Blades clanged, a few somethings were heard to crack, and then it was done. The mysterious spectre that did this stood before her. He was frightening from a few feet away, but terrifying up close. She moved into the dim moonlight in an attempt to see her benefactor better. He was dressed in what looked like a black cape, a black hood, black robes and a mask that covered his face such that only the eyes would have been seen, had there been more light. He had no shield, and the strange long swords in his hands were covered in fresh blood.

He put them in two scabbards that she assumed were crossed on his back and asked, "What is your name?" His voice was like melting chocolate and the last of her fear slipped away. She found herself answering without hesitation, "Fiara". He went on, "This is not the right time or place for someone like yourself to be caught in. Not alone. And not with such...beauty." She told him all about it. Even how her father insisted she get the water, when it was so late in the night. He asked, "How do your people display their gratitude to their savior?"

She blushed deeply, embarrassed that she hadn't thanked him at all, "Thank you, for helping me. But I must leave now. Father will be worried...."

He stepped towards her, much closer now. She felt...no, she _knew_ something was wrong. She backed away till she felt the harsh bark of a tree. She knew she shouldn't have trusted a stranger so blindly.

He pulled down his mask. Even then, she only saw only the ominous darkness under that hood, except for his eyes, which shone with a strange light of their own. He said, "I believe the tradition was to give the savior a kiss in return." With that, he grabbed both her wrists sharply and held them behind her back, still pressed against the tree, and with his other hand pulled her hair back, forcing her head backwards.

She didn't want him to kiss her. Didn't want it to happen. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she begged for mercy with her eyes. His eyes looked anything but merciful. Like two glistening black pools that swallowed everything they perceived with relish and greed. Her mouth was beginning to hurt and he suddenly pulled away. Then, he released her and put his hands on her waist, and all the time she pleaded incessantly. The hands slid to her back like a pair of intertwining snakes and he pulled her harshly to himself, as if a sense of possession had come over him. He kissed her again. The tears would not stop and she thought her ribs might break. She couldn't hope to fight back; her limbs felt as though they had turned to lead. She saw a strange light, felt it's velvety softness around her...

Every week, he thought, every single week. All he had to do was leave a special mark on their doorsteps. A single white rose, with a note containing the girl's name meticulously inserted among the folds of the petals. If she wasn't surrendered to him the same night, he would wreak havoc on the illiterate, mindless villagers of Hamelotshire. Unexplainable fires in the fields, poisoned cattle, butchered children. All of this seemed to outweigh the cost of the life of one young woman. And so, one girl every week was much easier in comparison. That was all he asked of them, in return from immunity from his rampages. He could pick and choose as he pleased, mingling with the common folk regularly, with the cunning and practised ease of a wolf in sheepskin. He wanted to stop this madness, but detecting the scent of their perfumes as they walked past, he had a difficult time restraining himself from doing anything that would raise suspicion. They would scream and sob pathetically and eventually raise his blood pressure, so he would fix theirs permanently.

However, Fiara seemed different. She was new to the village, having lived there for two months. As he gathered her limp form from the forest floor in his arms, he remembered the taste of fresh strawberries on her lips. The pale white skin, the rosy cheeks of good health and the gentle oval face with eyes the colour of evergreen trees. The way she begged to be let go...how could one let go of such a porcelain doll? It was almost as if she had instead screamed to be held closer and tighter. He carried her to his horse, sat her in an upright position, mounted the horse behind her and fastened her to himself to keep her from falling off. As was the case with all of them, he would have to ensure a permanent stay. Fiara would never see home again.

Maybe he'd keep her alive longer. Just a little longer...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Reader(s)!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this. Five kudos gives me the green signal for subsequent chapters!
> 
> Cheerio
> 
> House of Arkham


End file.
